Page 31

brAM

The scent of coffee rouses me from sleep. I open my eyes to Trevor’s sunlit room. Snuggled in the blankets, I’m warm and content and could stay here all day, if Trevor was with me. But the spot beside me is empty.

His voice drifts from the hall, talking to the dogs, then his footsteps get closer. He enters the room carrying a tray with two mugs, a plate with two bagels, and a bowl of strawberries. “Morning.”

“Hi, I was just wondering where you were.”

In his gray tee, sweats, and with his messy hair, he looks like he just rolled out of bed and could easily be persuaded to roll right back in. “I was up early, so I let the dogs out, fed them, then made us this.”

“I can’t think of the last time I had breakfast in bed.”

He sets the tray on the bed. Shadows darken the area under his eyes, but he smiles. “The coffee on the left is yours.”

I take the mug. “This is really nice. Thank you.”

After setting his mug on the nightstand, he sits beside me then hauls the tray between us. The bagels are toasted and slathered with cream cheese .

Coffee first, then a bite of the bagel, then a strawberry. I scoot the tray a few inches forward so I can lean against Trevor as we eat. “We should start more mornings like this.”

He sips his coffee, glancing at me, then the dogs, and lifts his bagel. “Was Charlie okay last night?”

“That’s right, you weren’t back when we hung up.

Yeah, just stressed and needed to vent.” I feed him a strawberry before grabbing another for myself.

“I talked to him until he got home. Then it was like I’d hit a wall, just exhausted.

So he told me to go to sleep. I blame the Smashed Scarecrow shots. ”

“Those were strong.” He eats another bite of bagel.

I lay my hand on his thigh. “You look like you didn’t sleep well.”

He shakes his head. “Not great.”

“If you’re tired, you can supervise at the carriage house, and I’ll do the heavy lifting.” Sipping my coffee, I rub soothing circles on his thigh. He’s quieter than usual today, and looking past the shadows that distracted me, there’s tension in the way he holds himself. “Are you okay?”

His lips tighten and the muscle in his jaw jumps. “There’s something we need to talk about. But we should finish eating first.”

“Why?” I set my coffee on my nightstand.

“Because it’s better to have something in your system.”

Warning bells go off in my head. “Like sugar for cases of shock?”

His brown eyes pleading, he pushes my bagel at me. “Please. I’ve been going around and around about how to handle this. Please eat.”

My stomach doesn’t want food now, but he’s obviously stressed, so if he wants us to eat first, that’s what we’ll do.

The size of our bagels and number of strawberries dwindle between mouthfuls of coffee.

When I finish the last crumb and drop, I put the empty cup on top of the plate and sit against the headboard.

Trevor drains his cup. He takes it, and the tray, and sets it on the foot of the bed. Then he turns to face me, drawing one leg under his body. “The dogs barking last night… I was going to take them to the yard.”

“Right.” I look at our furry friends, lying in their beds. “Did you see what set them off?”

He nods. “They insisted on going out the front door, scratching at it. So we did. Someone in a creature costume was on the lawn in front of the carriage house. The person we were looking for.”

“No way.” I grab his hand. “What happened? Why didn’t you get me?”

“They yanked me out the door before I knew what was going on. And then the person ran. So we chased them.” He huffs a breath, squeezes my hand, then lets go and pushes off the bed.

“They had a car waiting and got away, but part of the costume caught in the trees. And when we arrived at that spot, I saw the car before it turned the corner.”

I watch him pace in front of the bed, his tense movements, clenched jaw, and the troubled gaze, like he’s warring with himself on what to say. “You know who it is.”

He steps into the hallway and returns with a black, hairy mask. Biting his lip, he walks to the bed and places it beside me. “There’s a strand of white hair inside. The car was a pale blue Mini Cooper.”

My aunt’s hair color and custom car color, and if that wasn’t enough, her signature scent wafts from the ugly mask. There’s a heaviness in my limbs and a knot in my stomach. “Agnes? What the fuck?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense.”

“A lot of things don’t make sense.” Confused, angry, and hurt, I push the covers aside. “Come on. We’re going to Agnes and getting answers.”

I pull the SUV up to the curb of Agnes’s house. Other cars besides hers are in the driveway, and I don’t care what we might be interrupting.

Trevor opens the door and climbs out. By the time I’ve rounded the car, he’s let the dogs out of the back.

Holding both leashes in his one hand, he nods at the house. “You ready?”

I link his other hand with mine. “Now I am.”

Voices carry from the garden. We walk along the side of the house, and I recognize Rae’s voice.

The Rocktogenarians are seated around the table, much like when we met them to talk about the cryptid stories.

They look up and the conversation scratches to a halt. Five pairs of eyes turn our way.

Trevor squeezes my hand in silent support. We march to the table. I pull the mask from my back pocket and set it in front of Agnes. “You dropped this last night.”

Her eyes grow wide. “Dear, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” I step back. “Your hair’s in it. It smells like you. And your car was seen peeling away like you’d just robbed Moon Meadows Farm of all its maple.”

She holds my gaze, steady, unflappable. Then her lips press together in a slight grimace.

Eleanor sets her teacup on its saucer. “Just tell him, Agnes. We were bound to get caught sooner or later.”

“Only because certain people can’t read a timesheet correctly.” Rae sips her tea. A bottle of whiskey is next to the teapot.

Shooting a glare at Rae, Celia continues petting the dogs. “I already apologized for showing up last night too. Got my days confused.”

Trevor holds up his hand, his expression incredulous. “Wait. More of you were in on this?”

Rae snorts. “Honey, you have no idea.”

“What’s that mean?” He rubs his thumb along my knuckle, his gaze jumping from Rae to Agnes to Eleanor to Lydia, then Celia. “More people than you five?”

Their guilty expressions say yes. My stomach drops. Is the whole town in on it? Have they been laughing at the jock-turned-podcaster? Shit. I rub my hand over my mouth so I don’t lash out. What does this mean for my podcast? For my sponsors?

Agnes adds a splash of whiskey to her cup, then downs it. “I admit to wearing the costume.”

Eleanor bumps her arm. “Can’t tell them that without telling all of it.”

I look at Trevor. “All?”

Eleanor and Agnes seem to have an entire conversation with just narrowing eyes and meaningful stares.

With a sigh, Agnes tucks her hair behind one ear. “I made up the story about the winged thing flying over my car. Eleanor and Rae didn’t see a hairy creature, and there’s no wolf-man.”

“After learning you were behind the creature in town, I had the suspicion that the rest of the stories weren’t real.” But hearing the admission still guts me. My knees weaken and I lean on Trevor for support. “Why did you do it?”

“I thought cryptids were the best way to get you here. Help you and Trevor see what you mean to each other. And that part worked.” She gives our joined hands a satisfied nod.

“When you’d talk about each other, I could see how you felt.

But you both were too stubborn, too afraid to risk what you already had. You needed a push.”

Pressed against my side, Trevor’s entire body goes taut. “You could’ve just invited Bram up for a visit. And you didn’t have to invent new cryptids. We already have Mabel.”

She pours more whiskey into her cup then tips some into Rae’s tea.

“Coming up for a weekend or a week’s visit wouldn’t be long enough.

You boys needed to spend a lot of time together.

Investigating was the only thing I knew would work.

And Mabel is lovely, but one lone cryptid wouldn’t keep you here like chasing down several. ”

Swinging between shock and disbelief, I pin Agnes with my stare. “You acted scared. Told us you were unsettled and afraid. You manipulated us.”

“You’re not getting any younger, and when you get to be my age, and more of the people you know fade away, you realize how precious and fleeting time is.” Her chin raised at a stubborn angle, she folds her hands. “I acted out of love.”

Eleanor lays her hand over Agnes’s shoulder. “We all did. Agnes needed our help, so we helped. The intention was never malicious.”

Rae nods. “All of the Mabel sightings people told you about were real. We’d never fake with Mabel. Just the others.”

The reality of those faked cryptids sets in. “I did an entire investigation and episode about those fake cryptids. I spent days researching and talking to people who were lying to my face the entire time.”

The women look at each other.

“If I count the number of people I spoke with, and add in the number of people they probably told, and the way news and gossip spreads in this town, it’s impossible to believe word won’t travel further than that.”

They exchange glances again. Celia and Lydia shrug at each other.

Fresh frustration flares that they still don’t seem to get it. “Since I make money off those podcasts, and I hosted Cryptid Night, people could think I played a part in this hoax.”

Agnes sips her tea-whiskey without a care in the world, while my livelihood could be in jeopardy. “Not anyone who knows.”

“That’s the point. Most people won’t know. Twenty people told me they saw the same five cryptids, which they know is not true. They mention the hoax to other people, and soon, the fact that you did it to trick me, morphs into my being in on it.”